


a quiet heartache

by nerdytardis



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Self Confidence Issues, Shaving, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12552216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdytardis/pseuds/nerdytardis
Summary: A late-night shave is probably not a good idea on a normal day, but a late-night shave from the man you've been in love with for, oh, decades?  That's a really, really bad idea.A moment of comfort and explanations set during the Stolen Century.





	a quiet heartache

**Author's Note:**

> i literally can't stop thinking about these two and i Live for straight razor shaving fics, so here we are
> 
> as i said in the description, this is set somewhere in the back half of the stolen century  
> unbeta'd as always ;)  
> thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy!

A map of the current plane was laid out on the table in the kitchen, the many unfamiliar oceans and lands marked out in blues and greens. 

On one of the island continents, there was a large heart drawn in red ink, showing where, according to Lup’s calculations, the Light of Creation had fallen. 

His brows furrowed, Davenport ran over the variables and proposed plans in his head again. 

There were too many warring factions in the area for him land the Starblaster without getting sucked into the middle of an ancient conflict.  They would have to be either very careful or very diplomatic to make this work; neither of those things were strong suits for his crew—despite all that training they supposedly went through. 

From the stories he had heard, Davenport knew that those particular classes had turned into an exercise in extreme note-passing and _not_ actual diplomacy. 

“What are you working on there, cap’n?”

Davenport looked up, startled out of his thoughts.  He didn’t think anyone else was still awake at this hour.  Even the twins had retired to their room to repaint their nails and meditate. 

“You should get some rest Merle,” Davenport said, watching as the dwarf pulled up a chair across from him and looked down at the map, “It sounded like the last parlay was…difficult.”

Merle scoffed, “Nah, it’s not the bad.  When you’ve died as often as I have, you tend to get used to it.”

The thought made Davenport incredibly sad, despite Merle’s unwavering smile, and he felt a strong urge to be closer to other man well up inside him. 

But he just clenched his fist under the table instead, fingernails digging into his palm.

Forcing himself to look back to the map and not at Merle, Davenport willed himself to not get caught up in his own emotions.  It had been _months_ without Merle this time and it had been—hard. 

Davenport dreaded it, the time without him.  Everything was so different on the ship without Merle; the pain got sharper and the laughter got quieter.  It hurt, the hole he left in their lives; each gathering without him, each dinner with the empty chair, a reminder of what was missing. 

And it didn’t help that Merle seemed so anxious to get on with it.  The past few cycles the parlay had been getting earlier and earlier in the year.  They had only had him back _for a month_ this time, and Merle was already talking about going back in. 

Why?  What was it about the Hunger that Merle liked so much?  Or was it something about the rest of them?  Did Merle want to get away from _them_?

That last thought had weighed heavily on Davenport’s chest for a long time now, too many months without his best friend taking its toll and filling him with doubts. 

Because that’s all he had left do, during all that time without Merle. 

He’d think about the words he had spoken and the ways he had reacted, analyze the nuances of his feelings, and find that—it was like a stab to the gut to even think this but it had been too many years now to deny the truth—it hurt the most when Merle died. 

They were all his crew, his family, and Davenport loved them all so much more than he would have ever thought possible, but—Merle was different.  He awoke a part of Davenport that he had abandoned for so long that he had given up on it, almost didn’t recognize it, until the feelings began to bubble up.

Merle would laugh at one of their inside jokes, or make him dinner when he was too stressed to think straight, or recognize what he was thinking without saying a word, or make him a silly trinket just to make him smile, or simply sit with him when he needed support—it was in those moments, and so many more, Davenport would remember what being in love felt like. 

“Cap’n?”

Davenport blinked and quickly looked up at Merle. 

“You seemed to drift off there for a moment,” Merle said, fixing him in one of his famous concerned looks, “You good?”

“I’m fine.” Davenport said, closing his eyes for a moment and letting out a sigh, “I’m just tired.”

“I know.” Merle said, “You’ve got quite a load of shit on your plate right now.”

A breathy snicker escaped from Davenport, still amazed by Merle’s uncanny ability to make him feel better.  “That’s an understatement.”

There was silence for a moment, and Davenport didn’t dare look up, even as he felt Merle’s gaze on him. 

Finally Merle grunted a little and said, “Here.  How about you let me clean up that scruff you’re growing.  Then you’ll have one less thing to worry about.”

“What?” Davenport said, his fingers brushing self-consciously across the prickly hairs along his jaw.

“A good shave.” Merle said, hopping off of his chair and coming around the table, “It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

“Merle, no offense, but I don’t think I like the idea of you casting that kind of spell at this hour of the night; you’re obviously tired—”

Merle quieted him by waving his arms around and looking offended, “I’m not going to do it with a spell.   That’s for lazy people.  I prefer the more old-fashioned route.”  As he said it, Merle gestured to his own scruffy beard. 

The sight didn’t incite the kind of inspiration that Davenport suspected it was supposed to, but he nodded appreciatively none the less. 

“That’s great Merle, but I can shave myself.”

Merle held up both his hands, palms out and gave Davenport a look, “Trust me on this one Dav.  There’s nothing like a good, old-fashioned, close-shave to lift the spirits.”

Davenport could feel his resolve crumbling underneath him, as Merle kept looking at him with those eyes, the ones he had missed for so long.  Letting out a sigh, he stepped off the chair he had been standing on, so he would be level with Merle again.

“Fine.”

Merle lit up for a moment, making the whole thing worth it, then tooled back his reaction to a smirk.  “I’ll go get my stuff.” He said, already turning to the crew quarters in the back of the ship. 

Davenport sighed and pulled one of the shorter chairs made for him and Merle over.  Sitting down, Davenport waited for Merle to return and tried not to think about how bad of an idea this probably was. 

“Okay.” Merle said when he walked back in, putting a small case and a bowl of water on top of a stool nearby, “So what’ll it be?  Something fancy?  I could see you with a big, bushy moustache perhaps?”

Davenport gave Merle his best withering Captain-glare, “You aren’t allowed to touch the goatee.”

Merle laughed off the look, just as he always did, and held up his hands in defeat, “Okay, okay.  A trim it is then.”

Opening the case, he took out a small brush and a bottle of shaving cream, setting them beside the bowl.  The realization of what he had agreed to finally hit home as he watched Merle roll up his sleeves, and Davenport felt his palms begin to sweat like he was a cadet again.

“What do you think of this plane?” Davenport said, looking for a distraction, while Merle prepared the shaving cream. 

“It’s alright.” Merle shrugged, then stepped forward, into Davenport’s space.  Davenport flinched back a little at first, unprepared to have another person this close to him after so long, let alone this particular dwarf. 

Merle stopped, taking a step back and looking at him, obviously concerned, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” Davenport nodded, partly to reassure Merle and partly to steel himself from reacting again.  He hadn’t gotten to see his friend for months and if he had to get a midnight shave to get more time with him, than that’s what he was goddamn going to do.

“Okay then.” Merle said, stepping closer again.  A coolness spread across his jaw as Merle smeared the shaving cream on.  They lapsed into silence, as Merle concentrated on his work and Davenport tried to keep from reaching out towards the warmth of the other man. 

 _He_ is _your crewmember,_ something in the back of his head said, _It would be very inappropriate._

But that was an old argument, one that he had tossed aside years ago.  The real hierarchy of the ship had been mostly abandoned a few decades in, as their lives just kept getting more complicated, and their relationships grew more important than just captain and crew. 

But in this moment, all the things he had thought over the years, all those worn-out arguments and over-thought problems were coming back to him, as Davenport found himself a mere few inches away from the man he had been nursing a quiet heartache over for more than a decade.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Merle asked, finally stepping away to put down the shaving cream and wipe off his hands.  “You seem to have a lot of them tonight.”

“I’m just—”

“Tired, I know.” Merle said, shaking his head, “After Pan-knows how many years together, I know all your excuses Dav.”

Davenport smiled at the phrase, a running joke between them, and felt heat rising along his neck.  He secretly loved that nickname; Merle was the only one who used it all the time.  To everyone else he was still usually Cap’n’port. 

“You can’t talk while I’m doing this,” Merle said, hands on his hips, “so you better spit it out now.”

“What exactly am I spitting out?”

Merle shot him a look, “Whatever’s bothering you.” 

“It’s nothing.”

The dwarf was watching him expectantly, eyebrows raised, and Davenport finally sighed.  Merle was right of course; after this many years, secrets were a pretty nonexistent concept. 

Except, of course, those annoying, gut churning, _romantic_ secrets.  As Barry and Lup had proven, decades could pass before those ever get talked about, a thought that made Davenport both jealous and sad at the same time. 

Pushing his heart and its furtive feelings to the back of his mind, Davenport met Merle’s gaze. 

“Why do you want to leave again so soon?”

Merle blinked, visibly taken aback a little by the question. “What do you mean?”

“It’s only been a month and you already want to parlay again.”  Davenport said, never breaking eye contact, “Why?”

“Well,” Merle looked away finally, picking at an old stain on his shirt, “I guess I just want to be useful.”

Now it was Davenport’s turn to be surprised.  “Useful?”

“Everyone else has a thing, yknow,” Merle looked back up, and Davenport was shaken by the honesty in his expression, “But all I can really do is talk to John, and I seem to be finally getting somewhere with him, so…” He shrugged, like it was all that simple.

“Merle,” Davenport said, “You can’t think that.  You’re a vital part of the crew; you’re our cleric.”

“Sure, ‘cause that always works.”  Merle cocked one hip and looked at him, “Name one thing I can actually do.”

“You make me smile so hard it hurts.”  Davenport said without thinking, then gasping for a moment when he realized the words that had escaped his lips.

Merle didn’t respond right away, and Davenport took the opportunity to find his bearings again and plow on.  “You make sure Lucretia gets enough to eat, and keep Taako in line when Lup’s not around, and make everyone feel better without even really trying, and,” Davenport stopped to take a breath and find a way to explain something that was totally obvious to him. 

But Merle took the pause as an opportunity and held up his hands.  “Stop.”

Davenport’s chest tightened. 

“You don’t have to do that.” Merle said, catching Davenport’s gaze, “You don’t have to make me feel needed.”

“But you _are_ needed Merle,” Davenport’s hands clenched helplessly at his sides, “I don’t know what we’d do without you.  When you not here, we forget how to let things go, how to keep an open mind.”  Davenport hoped to the Gods that this was making sense, and didn’t just sound like the rant of a punch-drunk bard, “Without you, we— _I_ start to lose hope that this is ever going to end happily.”

Merle was looking at him again, his gaze unreadable.  The tension in Davenport’s chest grew more acute with each second.

Finally, Merle said, “So I’m some kind of…morale officer?”

Whatever he had been expecting, that wasn’t it.  Davenport paused before saying uncertainly, “That’s one way of putting it.”

Merle thought on it for a moment, then nodded, considering, “I guess that’s something.”  Looking back over at Davenport, something new crossed his features and he started to smirk again.  “I better get a move on with that shave now huh?”

Heat rose up Davenport’s neck and ears as he realized he still had shaving cream all over his face.  “Yeah, that might be a good idea.” He said, a hint of challenge in his voice.  Merle’s smirk deepened. 

“Okay Dav, don’t worry.” He picked up a razor and pulled it open, “I’ll have you cleaned up in no time.”

There was a tension in the air for a moment as Merle stepped close again and brought the blade to his skin, but it defused quickly enough. 

Davenport couldn’t tell if his words had really hit home for Merle, but at least he had gotten a chance to say them.  And the shave was, nice, if he was being honest with himself; Merle’s callused fingers ghosting along his jaw to tilt his head at the correct angle, the blade moving across his skin with a slow precision.    

They didn’t say anything as Merle worked, a companionable silence falling over them, the silence of two people who had known each other for so long that comfort came naturally when they were together. 

The rhythm of Merle’s movement settled around them, making the flutter in Davenport’s chest ease a little, even as he still ached to reach out, to touch him, know what it would be like to be this close without a blade between them, for those callused hands to hold his face, to kiss him—

“There.” Merle stepped back, the space in front of Davenport suddenly becoming empty and cold, “You never looked better.”

Not letting his disappointment show, Davenport looked away and conjured a mirror.  He brought his fingers to his jaw, feeling the smooth skin. 

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” he said, letting both his surprise and honest appreciating show, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome Dav.”

Something about the way Merle said it made him pause and turn.  But before he could analyze the situation anymore, there was a towel being thrown at him.  He caught it, mostly with his face, and shot a glare towards Merle, who was laughing at his floundering.  

In the mirror, Davenport wiped the shaving cream off, making sure to get all the little bits left at the corners of his sideburns. 

Davenport eventually turned back around, and found Merle already looking at him, looking much more tired than he had before. 

“Did you really mean all that stuff you said?  About, needing me around?”

“Yes.” Davenport stepped closer to Merle, his mirror spell fading away behind him as his concentration became totally focused on the dwarf’s downcast face.  “Absolutely.”

“Well, I’m sorry then.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you guys.  I got so caught up in my own shit, I forgot that it would suck to not have me around for all that time.”

Davenport smiled.  “It’s fine.  Just wait till the end of the year from now on.”

Something crossed Merle’s features at the words.  Even as he looked up, grinning and saying “Sounds good Captain,” there was a sadness behind his eyes. 

“Merle.” Davenport laid the towel he was still holding down on a chair and then looked at the other man directly, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.” Merle held his hands out, palms up, “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“After Pan-knows how many years together, I know all your excuses Merle,” Davenport said, unable to hide a little smirk from crossing his lips, “And I can tell when you’re lying.”

Merle didn’t react to their joke, a clear sign that Davenport was starting to get at something important.  “Why does it matter so much to you all of a sudden?”

“I’m your captain, and I care about you.”

Merle crossed his arms across his chest, “I don’t see you asking Barry about his feelings.”

“Barry’s an open book.  And he’s not here.”  Davenport sighed, “Why do you want to parlay?”

Merle hesitated and Davenport knew he struck a chord.  With a frustrated sigh, Merle said, “It’s nothing you want to think about Dav, trust me.”

“It’s obviously bothering you.”

“Which makes it my problem.”

“Gods Merle, I’m only trying to help!”

“I’m in love with you, okay?!”

Davenport froze. 

“I’m in love with you and I know I have no chance with someone as smart, and put together, and, well, perfect as you.  It hurts too much to be near you and not be able to say the things I want to, or, even hold your damn hand.” Merle threw his arms up, “So I make myself useful.  I parlay and I learn about John so that someday all this can finally stop.

“And yeah, it’s pretty cowardly, and selfish, to just _die_ instead of facing my problems, but hey,” Merle shrugged violently, still avoiding Davenport’s gaze.  “I’ve never done anything different; why start changing my brand now?”

The air the room had become charged, with fear and anger, as Davenport watched Merle curl in on himself defensively.  “You don’t have to say anything, don’t worry, I can just parlay tomorrow and give you a year to get used to the idea.”

“No.” Merle finally looked up, and Davenport took the last few steps to be directly in front of him. “Don’t leave tomorrow.” Merle’s eyes widened a little at Davenport’s conviction.  “If I could make the rules, you’d never have to leave and face that monster ever again.”

Merle opened his mouth so speak, but Davenport held up a hand to stop him, “I’m not done.”  Merle closed his mouth accordingly, waiting for him to continue. 

“First off,” Davenport ticked out the number one on his fingers, “You can be incredibly foolhardy sometimes, but you are definitely not cowardly or selfish.  Secondly,” he ticked off another finger and felt heat began to rise up his neck and cheeks, “You _are_ dumb.” Merle scoffed nervously as the tension in the air reached a new fever pitch, “Because only a dumb person would think I’m perfect or that you don’t stand a chance with me.”

Davenport caught Merle’s gaze, and after the years and years of their friendship, that was all it took for him to realize what was happening.  A bolt of electric understanding shot between them, and a brilliant smile spread across Merle’s face. 

Reaching out, Davenport grabbed Merle’s hand in his own and held them up.  “And lastly, you can hold my hand any damn day you want Merle Highchurch, because I love you and I’ve wanted to do this for fucking years.”

Taking Merle’s shirt in his other hand, Davenport pulled him down into a kiss, _the_ kiss, the one that he had been dreaming about for ages. 

Merle’s free hand came up to cup his jaw, as their entwined fingers were trapped between their chests. 

It was a simple kiss, just the slide of lips and pulling together of two people.  But after a moment, Merle leaned away enough that he could untangle his hand from Davenport’s and lay it on his hip, pulling them flush against each other.  

Their eyes met, they shared a breathless smile, and a new kind of heat rose up between them.  Davenport’s now-empty hand slid up to the back of Merle’s neck.  Tugging on Merle’s hair a little, he quickly closed the short distance between them again and they came crashing together. 

Teeth scrapped across skin, fingers tugged at hair and clothes as literal decades of yearning and built up tension were finally able to break free. 

Merle’s mouth left his for a moment, to trail kisses along his jaw, his chin, his face, before moving to the crook of his neck.  Davenport gasped against Merle’s cheek, before he looped his fingers into Merle’s shirt and began to pull him towards the hall with their quarters. 

Amid the bruising kisses and stumbled steps, a giddy laughter escaped from Davenport’s lips.  None of this seemed real; it was a fantasy captured in a swirling Technicolor. 

Davenport’s back hit the wall, and he took the opportunity to catch his breath for a moment, grinning like crazy, his arms draped around Merle’s shoulders.

“Yours or mine?” Merle asked, wagging his eyebrows. 

Davenport snickered, getting in close again.  “Mine’s closer,” he murmured against Merle’s lips. 

“Sounds like a plan.”

Merle, of course, then decided to pick him up, bridal style.  Davenport squawked in surprise and latched onto Merle’s shirt, his face ending up pressed against Merle’s neck as he laughed.  Merle was laughing happily too, as he took the last few steps and kicked the door to Davenport’s quarters open. 

For a moment, Davenport hoped that the noise hadn’t woken the crew, but the thought was gone in an instant as Merle recaptured his lips and stepped them into the darkened room, leaving everything else behind. 

\-- -- --

The smell of breakfast wafted into his room as Davenport slowly woke up. 

Adjusting a little in Merle’s arms, he hummed contentedly. 

Just for this moment, nothing was hurting or lost or tough.  His world was nothing but the breath softly rushing past his cheek, the warmth of another body next to him, and the inexplicable smell of wood smoke that always seemed to cling to Merle. 

Nestled into the dwarf’s chest, he was happy. 

Then, his stomach let out a long, low growl. 

Letting out a sigh, Davenport swore under his breath.  Leave it to Taako’s cooking to drive Davenport from this perfect moment. 

After pressing one-more gentle kiss to Merle’s cheek, Davenport carefully climbed out of bed.  Pulling on some clothes in the dim morning light, he smiled, still dizzy at the reality of it all.

Finally, after one last glance, Davenport opened the door and stepped into the hall.  Taking a few deep breaths, he managed to tool his smile back, before padding his way down to the kitchen. 

Barry gave him a small wave from the table, and then went back to reading over his data sheets, a mug of coffee in his other hand.  Lup was sitting next to him, half asleep, while Taako was at the stove, making something that smelled incredible. 

Pulling open one of the lower cabinets, Davenport pulled out his container of tea leaves and his kettle.  He then walked over to the sink for water, stepping up on the small stool so he would be level with the counter. 

Taako, who was now right next to him, did a double take then let out a low whistle.  “Looking good Captain, fresh shave and everything.”  He said, grinning widely. 

Davenport smiled a little, “Thank you.  Merle helped me with it.”

Now it was Lup wolf-whistling from the table, much to the dismay of Barry, who started to blush as he stared unblinkingly at his reading. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Davenport said, turning around and crossing his arms. 

“Nothing.” Barry said, shooting a wide-eyed look to Lup, “Right, babe?”

She shrugged, and started checking her nails, though a smirk played on her lips.  Barry turned back to his data, even though the bright red color refused to leave his face. 

 _I’m going have to look into—whatever that was_ , Davenport thought, turning back to his tea.  There was no telling what insanity the twins were planning at any point, but Barry seemed to be in this one, so it would be easy enough for Davenport to figure it out. 

While the water came to a boil, his mind lazily shifted back to the sight he had left behind in his room.  Merle curled up under the covers, sleeping peacefully, his hair free from its usual ponytail and splayed across the pillows. 

Smiling, Davenport poured the hot water over the tea leaves, and then put the kettle aside on the stove.  Breathing on the steaming mug for a moment, he heard Magnus heralding his own entrance with a huge yawn. 

The yawn faltered and there was a sharp intake of breath.  “Is that a hickey!?”

Davenport’s hand shot to his neck, his entire face igniting in heat as Taako and Lup broke into wild, screeching laughter. 

Steeling himself, Davenport took a breath and turned around to face them all.  Lup was practically on the floor, while Barry’s bright-red face was in his hands.  Magnus was still standing in the doorway, mouth hanging slightly open in surprise. 

Lucretia, thank the gods, wasn’t up yet.  Davenport really did not need this moment going in the journals for everyone to reread. 

Taako, who was leaning on the counter and holding his side, finally managed to say, “That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“I know!” Lup pointed at Taako from across the room, “I was trying so hard to hold it in, but holy shit,” she started wheezing again, “That was so worth it.”

Davenport’s face was on fire at this point, as he stood stock-still and refused to move his hand from his neck.  “Are you done yet?” He asked, glaring at them. 

“Never.” Taako said, shaking his head, “I’m never going to get over this.”

Magnus, who was grinning now that the shock had worn off, finally came in and sat down next to Lup.  She promptly leaned on him as she tried to catch her breath. “Mark this down,” She said, jabbing her finger into the table, “This was the cycle where Cap’n’port finally got some.”

Barry made a gurgled noise and looked out between his fingers at Davenport, who was still adamantly refusing to react, while Magnus made an exaggerated gagging sound. 

“Why did you make me think about that?” He asked, pushing Lup back into her own chair. 

“Think about what?” Lucretia asked from the doorway, a notebook already in her hand, even as she rubbed at her eyes tiredly. 

“Lucretia!” Lup sat up and pointed at her friend, as Davenport groaned and Taako broke into another fit of giggles, “Have we got something to tell you about.”

“We get it!” Davenport said, throwing his hands up in the air, defeated, “I slept with Merle, which is apparently everyone else’s business, and hilarious.  Are you happy now?”

Barry looked like he wanted to phase through the table, while Lucretia blinked at him, now fully awake. 

That was of course when Merle came in, his hair hanging around his shoulders, wearing the same crumpled shirt as yesterday.  The room froze as everyone turned to him in some form of anticipation. 

Sleepily waving a little to the room at large, Merle didn’t seem interested in the twins’ matching grins, Lucretia’s wide eyes, Magnus’s expectant smirk, or Barry’s desire to leave existence behind. 

Instead, he walked right up to Davenport and kissed him on the cheek with a quiet “’morning love,” before he pulled a mug from the cabinet and started pouring a cup of coffee for himself. 

Despite the never ending teasing and jokes that he knew were already on their way, Davenport’s heart swelled at the gesture, his chest growing tight with emotion.  He didn’t think Merle was even really awake yet, but in two mumbled words, he managed to show how simple it all was. 

Somewhere behind them, Taako and Lup started to whistle at them.  But, with smile tugging at his lips and Merle’s hand in his, Davenport found he didn’t really care anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
